Murder at Honeychurch Hall: A Mystery (18 page)

Turning to the back cover I learned that the year was 1910 and it would appear that Lily’s family ran a traveling boxing emporium and it was rumored that they were really racketeers. An undercover agent who worked for the king was sent to investigate. Naturally he fell in love with Lily and naturally the consequences were fatal hence the birth of the Star-Crossed Lovers Series.

I read for a good hour or more. There was a lot of quivering going on in
Gypsy Temptress
but again, to my surprise, it was well written and I found myself completely hooked. It was only the scream of a fox outside that snapped me back to the present. I had no idea what the time was, having left my iPhone in my tote bag in the kitchen. I checked on Harry who was fast asleep, and hurried downstairs to fetch it.

The empty corridors were dark and ominous. Half the lightbulbs had burned out. I made my way toward the galleried landing and tried to forget Harry’s Great-Uncle Rupert and Lady Frances in the blue dress. I had never believed in ghosts. It was Mum who claimed she could read palms and tell fortunes in the tea leaves although Dad and I never put her to the test. The house
was
creepy though and I was glad to reach the relative familiarity of the grand staircase and descend to the main hall.

Shafts of moonlight spilled through the domed atriums casting eerie shadows over the suits of armor. There were doors everywhere and I couldn’t remember which one was the kitchen.

I tried the first on the left, flipped the light switch, and gave a squeak of surprise. Guarding the entrance was a life-sized stuffed rearing polar bear poised to attack.

The room housed a small museum filled with a varied collection of antiquities and artifacts, presumably accumulated by the explorers of the family. There were African relics, rare ostrich and osprey eggs, maritime ship models, and scrimshaw. Butterflies and insects were displayed in glass cases. Arranged around the room were unusual curios including a nineteenth-century Polyphon music box, armadillo handbag, and a stuffed giraffe head. David would have a field day in here.

Returning to the hall the next door revealed a downstairs loo that was far more elaborately painted than the one in the Carriage House.

Framed “loyalty” portraits and photographs hung on each wall starting from the 1880s and spanning eighty-odd years. There were formal tableaus of the family and staff in uniform through the decades. Another set of photographs showed Bushman’s Traveling Boxing Emporium set up in the parkland in front of the Hall. There was something oddly familiar about these that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

In each of the annual photographs the same group of disheveled-looking children and youths flexed their muscles and posed for the camera.

Just ten minutes ago I’d been reading about a traveling boxing emporium in
Gypsy Temptress.
I hadn’t even heard of them up until an hour ago and yet my mother obviously had.

“I told you I destroyed them!” Someone was standing right outside the bathroom door. I froze—in a complete dilemma as to whether to reveal my presence.

“I didn’t ask you to destroy them, Eric.” I recognized Rupert’s clipped voice immediately. “I told you to give them back to me.”

“I—I—couldn’t. Vera turned up—”

“Vera! What the hell was she doing there?” Rupert’s voice had gone up at least ten decibels.

“You know how jealous she gets. She saw my car parked by the gate and stopped.”

“She saw you with
Gayla
?”

“Don’t worry,” said Eric. “I calmed her down.”

“Vera will tell Mother, you bloody fool,” shouted Rupert. “I can’t trust you to do anything right.”

“It’s not my fault her ladyship sold the Carriage House,” Eric exclaimed. “I’ve tried to get rid of that Stanford woman but she’s stubborn.”

Anger surged in my chest. Mum had been right all along about Eric’s intentions but I’d had no idea that Rupert was involved, too.

“The Stanford woman doesn’t matter anymore,” said Rupert.

“You mean, she agreed to move into Sawmill Cottage, after all?” Eric said hopefully.

“It’s not about Sawmill Cottage, you idiot!” Rupert yelled. “If Mother finds out the truth you can forget all about our agreement. It’s over.”

“What about our investors?” Eric asked. “What about Baker?”

“I told you to wait but you wouldn’t listen.”

“I’ll have to tell him something.” Eric sounded worried. “What if he asks for the money back?”

“Not my problem.”

“You bastard!”

“Get your hands off me—” There were sounds of a scuffle followed by a thunderous crash of metal, as if a dozen drum sets had been thrown into a hollow bunker. “Out! Out!” yelled Rupert.

The voices receded and I heard a door slam hard, leaving me shaken and more than a little anxious. The fact that Eric had spoken to Gayla and that Rupert was upset about it confirmed my suspicions that they were all somehow involved in her disappearance.

But I wasn’t sure what to do.

Should I tell Shawn? But what if he and Rupert were really the best of friends? Everyone here was so interconnected.

I counted to fifty before checking the coast was clear and emerged cautiously from the bathroom. The hall was deserted. I’d been right about the armor. It was scattered across the black-and-white marble floor in a gazillion pieces. Cropper certainly had his work cut out for him in the morning.

I found the kitchen easily but promptly bumped straight into Rupert. “Katherine!”

“Sorry. You’re back! Hello,” I stammered. “I didn’t hear you come in because I was upstairs. Just got here actually to—” I gestured to the tote bag I’d left on the kitchen chair. “Just ran down to grab that. Harry is sleeping soundly by the way.”

But Rupert didn’t seem bothered by my garbled explanation. He looked tired and drawn and just gave a brief nod. “Thank you. You may go now.”

“I’ll just pop back upstairs,” I said. “I left my book and of course I’ll check on Harry again.”

“Thank you. I will be up shortly.”

I set off, aware that Rupert must have decided to escort me after all. In fact, he followed so closely behind that I started to feel a little freaked out. When I reached the landing, I felt his cool breath on my neck and spun around. “Rupert—” I gasped in confusion.

Rupert was nowhere to be seen. I was completely alone.

A cold rush of air passed on by. Every nerve ending tingled and the hair on the back of my neck literally stood up.

“Rupert?” I called out again and hurried to look over the gallery banister into the hall below. It was empty.

Dad used to say we should fear the living, not the dead but I was thoroughly spooked. I ran to the nanny’s room and grabbed
Gypsy Temptress
. Took a peek at Harry—who was snuggled up to Edward bear—and ran.

No wonder Harry was afraid of the dark. If I’d just encountered his Great-Uncle Rupert I didn’t like it one bit.

The evening’s revelations had left me unsettled. Now, more than ever, I was determined to take my mother away from here—by force, if necessary.

Chapter Fourteen

I walked quickly through the pinewoods, anxious to get back to the safety of the Carriage House.

Reaching the latch-gate, I slammed into Vera coming from the opposite direction.

She was hysterical, taking in great gulps of air and sobbing her heart out. The light from the full moon shone down on a face, blotchy with tears and streaked with mascara. Her dress was plastered in mud and she carried her leopard print Louboutin shoes in one hand.

My stomach turned over. Judging from what I’d overheard at the Hall, Eric and Vera must have just gotten into a fight. “Good God, are you hurt?” I asked.

Vera shook her head. “Where is he? Where’s my Eric?” Her voice was slurred. She was clearly drunk.

“He was at the Hall with Rupert,” I said.

Vera poked my chest with her finger. “You’re after him now, aren’t you?” she said. “Just like that Russian tart.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Calm down.” Then I remembered. “Weren’t you and Eric supposed to have a romantic dinner date tonight?”

“Eric didn’t show up.” Vera dissolved into another crying jag. “I sat there in that bloody expensive restaurant like a bloody idiot for an hour with everyone staring at me.”

She sank onto a tree stump and flung her Louboutins to the ground. Her despair was so heartbreaking I actually felt sorry for her.

“Perhaps you went to the wrong restaurant?” I suggested.

“I’m not that stupid.”

“Or got the wrong day? I’ve done that myself before,” I said. “Did you check that Eric made a reservation?”

“Yes—no, wait, I didn’t,” said Vera, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. “I just walked in and sat down at a corner table. He’s always late.”

“Why don’t we call the restaurant—it’s probably still open.”

“I don’t have the number.”

“It was Crumb, wasn’t it?”

Vera nodded. “Bloody stupid name for a restaurant.”

I brought out my iPhone, Googled the number, and called them. “They said the reservation is for tomorrow night.”

“Oh, God,” she wailed. “I’m such a fool.”

“All sorted,” I said. “You see? And Eric need never know what happened.”

“I’ve ruined everything. Oh, God. Everything.”

If this was what passion looked like, I wasn’t interested. “Of course you haven’t.”

“Eric will kill me,” Vera said in a small voice. “Once he sees his precious tractor, he’ll kill me.”

“Tractor? Why? Whatever have you done?”

“I’ll go home and get my Wellies,” said Vera. “Yes—that’s what I’ll do. And William. He’ll help me find the keys, I know he will.” She grabbed my hand and squeezed it hard. “Please don’t tell anyone about this.” And she fled before I could say another word.

Back at the Carriage House I discovered that Mum had locked me out. I hammered on the front door for what seemed like ages.

Finally, the letterbox flew open and Mum hissed, “Kat, is that you?”

“Of course it’s me,” I snapped. “I’ve been standing outside for hours.”

“Are you alone?”

“No, I’ve got the local cricket team with me ready to have hot sex on your kitchen table.”

The letterbox flapped shut and Mum opened the door. “Did you see Vera?”

“Yes. She was in a terrible state. Why? Was she here?”

I followed Mum into the kitchen. She was walking a little unsteadily. “You have no idea what I’ve gone through this evening,” Mum said. “I just couldn’t get rid of her.”

“It looks as if you both had a few too many gin and tonics.” Pointing to the two boxes in the hall I added, “She didn’t pick up her parcels.”

“Vera gets her parcels delivered here so that Eric won’t find out how much money she spends.”

“Maybe you have more in common with Vera than you think,” I said dryly.

“What a mess it all is.”

“Mum, it really
is
a mess,” I said, wondering if now was a good time to tell her what I’d overheard at the Hall. “We need to talk.”

“Apparently Eric stood her up,” said Mum.

“No, Vera got the wrong night.”

“Oh no! The
wrong
night?” Mum started to laugh. “I don’t believe it.”

“What’s so funny? She’s devastated.”

“Come into my office and see.”

Mum headed straight for the DVD and hit the rewind button. “This surveillance equipment was a jolly good idea,” she chuckled. “Watch this. Pity it’s only in black-and-white.”

Mum hit play. The field outside my bedroom window filled the screen showing the cows peacefully dozing in the bottom right-hand corner.

Then, suddenly Vera—driving Eric’s brand new tractor—entered the frame. She began to careen around in circles, scattering the cows in all directions. Each time Vera zoomed passed the camera we got a clear view of her face. She looked manic.

I looked over at my mother who was laughing so hard that absolutely no sound came out of her mouth, at all.

“Those poor cows!” I began to laugh, too. “Vera said something about Eric’s tractor.”

“Yes. Yes.” Mum gasped for breath. “But just wait until you see what happens next!”

The tractor came around again but this time it suddenly stopped dead. Vera shot out of the driver’s seat and landed face-first in the mud. It was as if some divine power had hit the brakes. Then, to my amazement, the vehicle gave a violent jolt and pitched sideways, reared up, stayed vertical for a brief moment, and then began to sink.

“It’s a bog!” I shouted.

Tears ran down my mother’s face. “No—” she gasped. “It’s a sink—sink—sinkhole. Oh my heavens.” She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her poncho.

And then the tractor stopped.

“Unfortunately it hits the bottom.” Mum sounded disappointed. “Now watch.”

Vera picked herself up off the ground and started leaping around the edge of the hole. She was shouting but since there was no sound, it was as if she were acting in a silent movie.

“Didn’t you hear anything at all?” I asked.

Mum, still sniggering, said, “Not really. I was working.”

“And you didn’t go out and help?”

“What could I have done with one arm?” Mum gestured to the screen. “Watch this bit. See what she does next.”

Vera removed her Louboutins and clambered back onto the seat. She wrenched the keys out of the ignition but promptly dropped them. Judging by her horrified expression, they must have fallen into the hole.

“I wouldn’t want to be Vera tomorrow morning,” I said.

“Frankly, I don’t care about Vera,” Mum said defiantly. There was no hint of amusement now. “She’s poison.”

“Mum!”

“She came over here all upset asking if I’d seen Eric,” said Mum. “I gave her a drink to try and calm her down and do you know what?”

“What?”

“She asked me point-blank for a loan.”

“A loan? Whatever for?”

“The nerve! She was in my kitchen for hours. Told me all about Eric being fed up with her credit card debts and that the reason they had separated this time was because of her money spending habits—”

“Those Louboutins cost about six hundred pounds a pair,” I put in. “But why ask you for a loan?”